


A Most Unwelcome Sound

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mild sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long Haul has a new hobby. It seriously shatters the tranquility - and other activities.</p><p>Written for tf_speedwriting. prompt - "Silence."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Most Unwelcome Sound

The island base was never usually completely silent. Even when the Constructicons were offline, there was a melody of gentle outside sounds. Waves would crash gently on the beach, accompanied by the soft moan of wind, the rustle of palm trees the cries and scritchings of little Earth creatures. This afternoon however, even the birds - it seemed - had lost their chirrups. The soft intakes of the only two gestalt members currently online were all that permeated the utter quiet.

On his back on the double berth Hook shifted, attempting to concentrate on his copy of The Universal Medic, downloaded secretly from Ratchet’s computer during their recent capture by the Autobots and not unpleasant sojourn on the Ark. But in the silence, he was acutely aware of the soft creaking of the armour of the Constructicon leader beside him as Scrapper studied the plans for Megatron’s latest greatest desire, a machine known only as the “Exterminator.”

As the day wore on, Hook grew restless. All afternoon he’d been looking forward to this ‘alone’ time - it was just too hard, with Scrapper stretched out there beside him all gleaming green and purple and appealing, and smelling so delightfully of diesel and heavy duty engine oils. Hook could not help it. As though with a life of its own, his hand wandered sideways, coming to rest on Scrapper’s thigh. His fingers drummed lightly on the smooth grey metal.

Scrapper shifted, brushing the hand away, and then wriggling sideways so as to be just out of reach. Hook let out a sigh. Repressing his highly over-elevated charge, he returned to his  journal. He could not help, however, giving one last flare of his energy field in a wanton attempt to gain his team mate’s attention. He was most pleased when a distinct shudder reverberated through the leader.

But Scrapper wasn’t happy. He put the datapad down. A reproachful glance followed. “Hook please – don’t _do_ that,” he said. “I’m already very behind with my design. You know what Megatron said would happen if I didn’t have the first prototype ready by Thursday?”

“Oh I heard...” Oh yes – Hook had. A stark reminder that Hook’s plans always had to be ruined by Megatron’s silly threats.

Hook thought for a moment. He rolled on to his side. Ignoring Scrapper’s studious return to the datapad, his fingers stroked Scrapper’s arm in a way that Hook knew the leader particularly liked. “A most unwelcome proposition, I agree,” he murmured. “It occurs to me, however, that if it were to be carried out, then our dear leader would never get his contraption at all. Now would he?”

 _That was true,_ the logic centre in Scrapper’s processor concluded. The leader could not help but look into his over-amorous team mate’s optics – which were filled with lustful desire. A deep affection burned in Scrapper’s spark. Darn it! Why did Hook always have this effect? He was sure the crane had amplified their link within the gestalt bond in recent times. It never used to be as bad as this…

And then just as Scrapper made a last supreme effort not to ignore what still had to be his priorities, Hook flared his energy field again. Scrapper let out a groan, as little currents sparked across his chest armour.

Delighted, and thoroughly excited now, Hook propped himself up. Leaning over, he stroked Scrapper’s cheek. “We should put Megatron from our minds,” he murmured. “And we…” his lips brushed Scrappers as the loader squirmed very pleasantly underneath him, “should take advantage of this superb peace and quiet.”

But just as Hook felt Scrapper surrender, and - mercifully - prepared to let the urges he’d had all afternoon to be given full rein, a single wailing tone broke out, loudly shattering the silence. Every sensor in Hook jangled. “What in the name of Primus is that?” he cried, breaking the kiss and looking wildly around.

The terrible noise went on, mournful and shrill, like something in unspeakable pain. All Hook’s defensive reactors sharpened as the sound was followed by another, a semitone higher, then another even more excruciating. Sitting up, Hook’s processor whirled, rapidly seeking the source. His cranehook clunked loudly against his shoulder as he activated his weapons.

But Scrapper did not seemed perturbed at all. No, he was - _laughing?_ “Oh Hook – I’m sorry…” he cackled. “I should have said!”

Hook frowned. He looked at his team mate in amazement. “And what’s so funny?” he shouted above the din, which suddenly seemed even louder. For his sensors had registered now that this was not a team mate in distress, or any other Cybertronian and therefore not an enemy. No - it must surely be some Earth animal hitherto not observed.

“Whatever that is, it’s most unwelcome! Hook yelled. “ I’ll have you know that I intend to remove it, Scrapper, and without any chance of its return!”

He went to get off the berth. But Scrapper caught his arm. “Your face!” Pulling Hook back, he could not help but wince himself as a particularly flat semitone painfully assaulted his audios. He switched to comm. //Look - Hook, it’s only Long Haul. He has a new hobby. He’s taken up playing the bagpipes. //

“The _what?”_

//A human instrument,//Scrapper explained knowledgeably. //Certain of their kind play them at ceremonies - like we do our trumpets. Sometimes they march with them too. Apparently it takes some practice before the art is mastered.//

Slowly, Hook relaxed – even though the dreadful noise continued unabated. //Well please tell me our trumpet playing sounds better than that!// he said.

But now, to Hook’s pleasant surprise, Scrapper was pulling him back down. A mischievous glint sparked in his optics. //We can always offline our audios,// he whispered.

Despite his annoyance, Hook smiled wryly. Maybe Long Haul’s new hobby had a good side after all? //I thought you had an Exterminator to build,// he teased.

//Yes well…// Scrapper kissed him as the wailing continued. //I think that is well and truly out of the question now, isn’t it?//

Hook obliged him, thoroughly. As the peace and quiet descended again and there was only Scrapper and the quenching relief of long held desire, Hook reflected that maybe the terrible cacophony actually made Long Haul _happy?_

And that could not be so bad either.


End file.
